


Drunk & Somewhat Disorderly

by ChampagneSly



Series: Blue Tulip Verse [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jos comes home drunk to a very amused Francis. And then wakes up to an even more amused Francis.</p><p>Domestic sweetness post Come Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There wasn’t much distance between the front door and the bedroom, as even though Jos’ apartment was quite nice, it was still an apartment and therefore not very big. And yet, much to Francis’ sleepy amusement, it took Jos more than two minutes to navigate the straight and uncomplicated hallway that kept them apart. He paused his reading to listen to Jos’ shuffling footsteps and a hissed curse that Francis could only imagine was the result of his darling’s long legs introducing themselves to the new end table they’d bought for the living room two weeks ago. 

Judging by the lateness of the hour and the ridiculous amount of effort walking 12 meters apparently required, Francis could only assume that Jos’ persuasive drinking expedition with dearest Jens had been a resounding success. Failure would have had his churlish beloved home hours earlier, scowling and smoking up a storm as he regretted not sending in Francis to manipulate the Dane into saying yes. But, finally, at long last, Jos had managed to make his way to the bedroom door, rumpled and gorgeous as he stood in the soft light and blinked in confusion while Francis smiled slyly at him from the bed. 

“You’re here,” Jos said, more or less without slurring, though with a pinch of surprise, as though he’d forgotten that Francis stayed in his bed with alarming regularity. 

Francis settled his novel over his chest and held out a hand to his slightly swaying darling, trying not to laugh as Jos’ attempt at his favored tight frown kept going slack and loose, lips as drunk as the rest of him. “Yes, I’m here. Right where you left me four hours ago. Well, perhaps not right where you left me, but surely you remember how you left me. I thought it would be best if I stayed, my darling,” Francis teased, watching the the memory of the shower they’d shared slowly swim to the surface of Jos’ poorly organized thoughts. 

“Its good,” Jos muttered, stomping resolutely to the side of the bed and pawing at Francis’ face with none of his usual grace and all of his usual stubbornness until he was able to slide his liquored mouth over Francis’ smile. Gamely, Francis let his hair be pulled by fumbling hands and wondered if Jos enjoyed the feeling of Francis’ glasses digging into his cheek as Francis parted his lips and tasted gin and more gin. Jos stumbled backwards, leaving Francis more breathless with amusement than arousal. “Its good that you stayed.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you approve,” Francis said laughingly while Jos wandered into the bathroom, shedding his clothes aimlessly as he went—another sure sign that his sweetheart had had one shot too many. It warmed his heart to think of Jos’ expression of horror in the morning when he woke with not only a headache, but a disastrous and unforgivably messy bedroom floor that for once he could not blame on Francis. 

Now shirtless, barefoot, and wearing unbuttoned pants that threatened to slip from narrow hips at any moment, Jos snorted and turned on the faucet, “You should always get my approval for everything.” 

“Any why would I do such a thing?” Francis asked curiously, turning on his side to watch Jos fumble with the toothpaste cap, calling it ugly names in Dutch before turning to glare at Francis as though he was the cause of all his difficulties. 

Jos looked at him like he was awfully stupid, grumbling, “Because I like it.” 

Francis laughed, and though he knew Jos would not be able to properly appreciate it, flirted outrageously, “Oh? Would you like to have me coming crawling on hands and knees to beg your permission? To put in writing all the many, many requests I have of you? To let you direct my each and every move? Would you like that, my darling?”

“Yes.” Jos said firmly and then shoved the toothbrush is mouth, scrubbing viciously. Francis buried his head in his hands and hoped that Jos could not hear his laughter, could not hear how much delight he took in Jos’ unmeasured honesty and soft sway of his long limbs as he clung to the counter for support. 

Francis watched until Jos spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth, peering into the mirror for a long, quiet moment that was doubtless of great and intoxicated import, before he tripped out of his pants and lumbered towards the bed. Francis raised an eyebrow in answer to Jos’ slightly tilted expression of determination, liquor softened the firmness of his jaw, and exhaustion blurring the sharpness of his gaze. 

“If I approved everything, then you couldn’t spend so much money,” Jos announced gravely, shoving at Francis so he could crawl onto the bed instead of just going around to the other side and climbing in. Francis huffed dramatically and surrendered tiny inches of space, only to have Jos pluck the book he’d long abandoned reading from his hands and make himself most comfortable between Francis’ legs and on Francis’ chest. Jos glared at him from atop his Francis shaped throne, “I don’t like that and I don’t like that idiot piece of furniture that always gets in the way.” 

“Entirely understandable, my sweet.” Francis nodded and bit his lip, stifling his desire to tease mercilessly. Instead he touched his finger to Jos’ ridiculously endearing pout and admired the pale curve of Jos’ bare back and bottom while listening to his darling’s litany of complaints. 

“I don’t like it when anyone else but you smokes my cigarettes,” Jos mumbled, large hands roaming over Francis’ chest, fingers pulling artlessly at the v of his v-neck pajama shirt. “I don’t like drinking so much Danish beer. Or so much gin. Or listening to so much shit about Norwegians.”

“Ah,” Francis said happily, stilling the hands that threatened to stretch out his favorite sleeping shirt, “But you were successful in convincing him to go to New York before Eirik’s contract has finished?” 

“Obviously,” Jos snorted and pinched him, apparently offended that Francis would for one moment doubt his powers of persuasion. Francis kissed his sleepy darling’s fingers in apology and wished he could take a picture of Jos like this, slumped and sweetly rumpled on his chest, trying and failing to divest Francis of his clothes. 

“And you didn’t even have to suffer through the indignity of a body shot to do so,” Francis sighed, remembering a wild night in Copenhagen when he had sampled more than Jens’ favorite party trick. “Your methods are impressive indeed, my darling.” 

Jos eyed him with bleary suspicion, crawling up his chest to bite Francis’ jaw and shove his greedy hands into Francis’ hair. “I definitely do not approve of body shots,” Jos threatened, though the gravity of it was somewhat lessened by the wide yawn that followed his accusation. “I don’t like that. No more of those for you.”

“Mmm,” Francis said sweetly, kissing Jos’ forehead and urging him to lay his head once more on his chest or shoulder so that he could not witness Francis’ wicked delight at seeing his favorite wind-up toy so marvelously undone. He splayed his hands on Jos’ warm back and rubbed his lax muscles, murmuring quietly, “Perhaps you should tell me what you do like, my love, so I can be best prepared.” 

“Preparation is good,” Jos mumbled and Francis could not help but laugh and kiss Jos’ the wrinkles of Jos’ tired consternation. Jos smiled at him, gin soaked sweetness in the curve of his lips as he touched the rims of his glasses. “I like these.” 

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Francis said, hands sweeping up and down Jos’ back, “What else?” 

Ever deliberate, Jos paused, eyes falling shut for so long that Francis thought he might have drifted to sleep. Jos rubbed his face against his chest, rousing once more to murmur, “I like when you interrupt me at work.” 

Francis smiled and rolled his hips beneath the heavy press of Jos’ body, teasing gently, “Oh, really? Even though you’re always complaining that its so inconvenient and unproductive to waste time kissing at work when we can do that at home?”

“Be quiet,” Jos tried to roll his eyes, but only succeeded in closing them, which made Francis’ chest rumble with suppressed laughter. 

“Do you like it when I’m quiet?”

“I like it when you say my name.”

Francis closed his own eyes and cradled Jos near, sliding down the pillow so they were a horizontal tangle of limbs and he could press his smile to Jos’ ear and whisper, “And when I call you my darling, do you like that as well?” 

“Maybe,” Jos yawned, shifting and wriggling until he was draped over Francis from head to toe, trying to figure out how to get beneath the covers to paw at Francis. He ended his great yawn and stretch with a frustrated nip to the cotton covered skin of Francis’ shoulder, grumbling, “I also like your cock.” 

“Everyone does,” Francis laughed lowly and grabbed Jos’ fumbling and wandering hands, lacing their fingers together. “Its made me quite wealthy and famous.”

“I like to suck your cock,” Jos slurred against his throat, leaving wet, messy kisses over his skin as Francis’ amusement rippled in his chest and adoration curled warm and tight around his heart. Such sweet seduction that was certain to end only in sleep, so terribly and marvelously endearing. 

“I like that, too, my love,” Francis whispered, them onto their sides so he could wrestle the covers over the man who reached for him even as sleep crept into the corners of his eyes. Francis kissed him once, twice, stealing a taste of mint. “But perhaps tomorrow, if you approve.” 

“I approve,” Jos huffed and pulled him close, arms wrapped around his back and one long leg pushed between his thighs, cuddling near in a way that sobriety rarely allowed.

“Wonderful,” Francis said, freeing one hand to remove his glasses and struggle to turn off the lights. “I’ll look forward to it.” The room went dark and quiet but for the sound of skin shifting beneath sheets and Jos’ breathy yawns. “But for now, goodnight, my drunken darling.” 

“I don’t approve,” Jos mumbled, twisting and turning until he was spooned behind Francis’ back with his face buried in Francis’ now entirely mussed hair.

“Why not?” Francis asked indulgently, pulling Jos’ arm around his chest and kissing the tips of his fingers. 

“There’s one more thing I like.” 

Francis sighed fondly, “Well, by all means, do tell.” 

He could feel the rush of Jos’ breath against his neck and the dampness of his palm pressed to his chest and the softening of a body more than ready for sleep just before Jos yawned and said:

“You.” 

Francis closed his eyes and held Jos’ hand over the happy beating of his heart, smiling as Jos gave up his stubborn struggle and began to snore. 

“I like you too, my love.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sleeping with Jos was normally a more delicate and refined affair, yet the morning after his darling had stumbled home in an adorable stupor, Francis found himself pinned to the bed by the dead weight of long limbs with the sound of a steady snore in his ear. The sun was up and the birds were making merry, so he decided there was very little reason to remained trapped beneath too warm skin listening to rumbling breaths that still smelled a little of gin if he wasn’t currently also engaged in making merry. Francis took one look at Jos’ pinched expression and the pallor of his cheeks, and knew that he was more likely to be crowned King of the Netherlands than partake of  _that_ kind of delicious wake-up call. 

There was likely to be no sex, Jos was almost certainly going to wake up a very grumbling and snappish wolf, and there even a small stain of damp on his pillow, but Francis couldn’t help but find all of it, right down to the sticky press of Jos’ hand beneath shirt, entirely adorable. He smiled as he wriggled from beneath the trap of Jos’ octopus arms, batting away the hands that chased sluggishly after his escape. Even now, when he was doubtless going to wake with a headache and sour temper, Jos was so endearing Francis had no choice but to bend down and kiss that poor, worried brow and those frowning lips that held such sweet secrets.

Jos made an inhuman and artless noise, nose wrinkling as his eyes fluttered open and shut. Francis smirked and thought that it wasn’t so very cruel to have a little fun with his soon to be beleaguered darling when he woke if he tempered the tease. He stretched his arms over his head and then, with heavy regret, dragged the covers once more over Jos’s lovely and tempting nakedness, pulling his lip between his teeth to still the laughter that threatened when Jos attempted a sleepy glare. 

Francis crept towards the bathroom, listening to the grumbled and groaning shuffle of the tall lump beneath the sheets and watching the slow curve of his smile in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. 

“Why are you wearing clothes?” 

Surprised by the unexpected and delightful question, Francis nearly choked on toothpaste as he rinsed his mouth and turned to greet his rumpled darling with a sunny and winning smile. 

“Why wouldn’t I be wearing clothes?” Francis leaned gracefully against the door and wished he could take a picture of Jos’ ridiculous cowlick hair and pillow creased face. He pouted dramatically and toyed with the drawstring of his pants, “Don’t you  _like_  my pajamas, my darling?”

Jos frowned with bleary confusion, tickling Francis’ amusement as he flopped back to the pillow and dragged an arm over his eyes, muttering, “I don’t have any opinion either way.” He coughed and rolled over, hiding his face from Francis’ bright eyes. “I just wanted to be clear on why I am naked and you are not.” 

Francis sauntered to the bed, sad that Jos couldn’t appreciate the beauty of his Cheshire cat grin as he crawled across the mattress to drape over the pained hunch of Jos’ shoulder to kiss his ear and whisper hotly, “I entirely understand if you don’t  _approve_ of my wearing clothes, my darling. If you _like_ it, I’m more than prepared to never wear clothes in your presence again.”

Jos turned over with a huff, attempting to dislodge Francis. Francis laughed and thought that he had been on far more tempestuous and unpredictable rides, simply spreading his legs and going with the surly flow of Jos’ body until he straddled the sheets over Jos’ lap, still smiling like the cat who could not wait to play with the canary. Jos attempted to buck him off, only to wince and immediately slump in alcohol induced defeat.

Feeling kindness for his salty sweetheart, Francis stroked his hands down Jos’ chest and made cooing sounds of sympathy, murmuring to him in soft French until the grimace of displeasure had faded into no more than a charming scowl. Francis licked his lips, unable to resist the temptation to gently taunt, and leaned slowly forward to ask, “And this, my darling? Do you  _like_  this as well? Do you _approve_ of a grown man being so spoiled?”

Jos’ eyes cracked open, narrow and suspicious, his voice thick with irritation and reluctant curiosity as he stilled the stroking of Francis’ fingers and demanded, “Why do you keep asking me do I like this or approve of that?” Francis hummed nonchalantly and shrugged. Jos struggled to sit up in bed, glaring when Francis laughed at his pained efforts and started rubbing two fingers over each temple. “What game are you playing?” 

“One that you started, my darling!” Francis said happily, continuing to rub Jos’ temples and take great pleasure in the confused cut of his frown. Jos stared at him balefully and crossed his arms over his chest, apparently disinterested in playing at the moment.  Francis laughed and tweaked Jos’ nose just to relish the beauty of his edged  and blushing annoyance at the gesture. He smirked mischievously and clambered from the bed, once more dodging Jos’ demanding hands, calling out gleefully, “Perhaps, if you _approve_ , I might suggest reflecting upon what happened last night and find much cause for _like_.” Francis tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to consider before smiling beatifically. “Or _dislike_.” 

Francis blew a kiss to counteract the deadliness of Jos’ dirty look and went in search of coffee and toast, leaving his darling to the careful act of contemplation of that which happened last night under the influence of too much gin.

~~

Fifteen minutes later, Francis returned with a unflagging smile and a tray of coffee and toast for two (and aspirin for one) to discover that Jos had put a pair of pants and also acquired the loveliest, most marvelous stain of pink on his face. 

“If I suck your cock now, will you promise to never say another word about last night?” Jos grumbled. 

“Mmm, a tempting offer, my darling. And one that I am sure you would like.” Francis laughed and set the tray on the bedside table, curling against Jos’ knees as he settled on the mattress and gave into the absolute need to kiss each blushing cheek. “And yet, I think I shall have forgo such a generous offer and wait until I’m more assured you’ll neither be sick nor fall asleep mid-coitus.” He kissed Jos’ frowning lips and whispered, “I am not sure that  **I**  would _like_ that very much.”

“You are never going to let this go, are you?” Jos muttered, arm wrapping around Francis’ waist and drawing him nearer.

“Ah, and surrender such a fine advantage so easily?” Francis kissed Jos’ throat and reached for the cup that held his peace offering. Jos took the cup and brushed the thin line of his frown over Francis’ forehead. Francis hummed happily and smiled, “I can hardly think you of all people would  _approve_  of such a choice?” 

“I don’t like you,” Jos declared flatly, rolling his eyes. But he sipped the coffee with evident pleasure and ran his fingers beneath Francis’ shirt, while Francis picked at the toast and popped a buttered corner into his unrepentant mouth. He shrugged his shoulders and winked as he took another bite of bread and held a gaze he would once never have guessed could be so warm for a man who played at being so cold. 

“Mmm, that’s shame.” Francis swallowed and licked his lips, leaning forward to steal a taste of the coffee he’d made to watch the fond and familiar expression of Jos’ exasperation. He wrapped his fingers over the hand that held the mug and pressed his  coffee bitter lips to the soft parting of Jos’ kiss, a gentle and still exchange of breath for an early morning. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Because I love you very much.” 

The fingers he held tightened, warm and sure over ceramic, and the hand that crept beneath his shirt stole up, up, up until it was splayed over the steadying beating of his heart. He felt the slow curve of Jos’ smile and returned it in kind as words were whispered against his lips and lost in the fervency of a kiss.

“I approve.”


End file.
